Fiddle of Gold Against Your Soul
by CandyKaBOOM
Summary: The only thing exciting about Aris' life is her painting. When she meets Batman and the Joker, she becomes taken with their dangerous natures. Joker wants to use her for his own ends but Bruce wants to win her heart. BruceWayne/Batman/OC and Joker/OC-ish.
1. Destroya

She must have been daydreaming and took a wrong turn or something as she didn't recognize the part of Gotham that she was walking through. She had been on her way home from a painting class in the middle of the busy city; she had taken the same route back to her apartment a hundred times at least but now the structures surrounding her were abandoned, forlorn-looking things instead of the filled, bright buildings that welcomed her back each evening. The silence outside of her shuffling feet was daunting but she didn't let fear take hold, knowing it wouldn't do her any good and might even cause her to get more lost or worse—draw even more attention to herself.

Besides her feet disturbing the never-ending quiet, she seemed to be the only person out in the open and she was also lugging a large, painted canvas about half of her five-foot-six frame under one arm and a large messenger bag over the other. She would have been hard to miss even in the bustling crowd she had accidentally strayed from.

This was not always entirely true. When she wasn't toting around seemingly random large objects, she didn't exactly stand out. Her makeup was simple and so were her clothes; her hair was a natural burnt umber, but it was looking more on the dull brown side these days as she didn't take too much care of it. That day she was wearing her usual jeans, t-shirt and grey knit hat. She thanked her lucky stars she had thought to grab her black pea coat because when the sun set on Gotham, a chill always set in that you could feel in your very bones. She brought her chin closer to her chest in an attempt to try and bury more of her face in her collar.

The sight of a warm glow and the sound of muffled voices at the end of the street perked her up a bit and she sped up her stride while also staying wary. She was hoping the cross-street would lead her back into the heart of the city so she could find her way home, but you never knew who or what you would find on these back-streets. When she was about fifty feet away from the last building on the street she heard something that made her come to a halt and almost trip over herself. A high-pitched maniacal laugh most of the city had heard over their televisions, unmistakable, echoing off of the buildings around her and making that fear she had pushed down rise to the surface. Just as she started cursing under hear breath about her stupid, absentminded wanderings and before she could start thinking about escape, she was knocked off of her feet.

She didn't know how long she was on the ground but the timing seemed endless before she could see or hear again. Her world had exploded in a blinding whiteness and the looming deafness in her ears eventually turned into a high ringing. Her hearing came back first as the ringing turned into the distinctive roars and crackling of fire. Next came her vision and the sight looming over her paralyzed her in fear. Things were still hazy but a pair of charcoal-laden black eyes looked down on her, the sky blazing behind them. The pain came last. Her face and hands stung, her head swam and her back had sharp, shooting pains working their way from her neck to her hips. The pain overtook her senses and she started to stand without thinking about the maniac so dangerously close to her.

The Joker stood back and allowed her to stand, watching her with a placid look on his face she couldn't hope to find an emotion in, even if her mind wasn't reeling from the situation at hand. She matched his gaze as she straightened herself, rubbing her sore limbs. When neither speech nor action occurred, she allowed herself to look away as she had been yearning to see the distracting blaze that could have killed her. Her eyes fell upon an entire building engulfed in flames. Her guard was let down again and she turned her full attention to the burning wreckage, completely entranced. She vaguely noticed that the Joker came to stand beside her, tilting his head as he watched along with her.

"Wow," she whispered. What else could she have said? It was the only thing that seemed even slightly appropriate. He giggled lightly in mirth as he disappeared from her side. She turned to watch him make his way toward the street opposite them at the same time that she picked up the sound of sirens in the distance. She didn't know what made her do it but she called after him, her voice hoarse, "What should I tell them?"

He stopped and then turned slowly around, one eyebrow reaching toward his matted hair. He shrugged lazily and smacked his lips. "Tell them I'm, uh…back!" he brought his arms out and laughed, flourishing dramatically as he disappeared into the darkness between buildings. She smiled strangely and turned back to the terrible but beautiful inferno before her. She tried not to think about some homeless person squatting possibly burned to death in the wreckage. It couldn't be helped, the sight was truly amazing. She tried to burn it into the back of her mind so that she could paint it later…perhaps after a good night's sleep. It was then that she noticed she was no longer holding her canvas. Coincidentally that was when she heard two resounding snaps as police cruisers and fire trucks pulled in around her.

She put her hands to her mouth as she spotted the broken canvas under one of the police cars, all four corners sticking out in places they shouldn't. She walked toward the car keeping her hands over her face, vaguely noting to herself that being more angry and shocked about her canvas than she was about almost being blown up wasn't exactly rational. Lost in the misery of the thought that it had taken her a week to finish the now demolished painting and she only had two days to cough up another one to the buyer, it took her a minute to register that an officer was trying to get her attention. His hand on her shoulder made her jump.

"What?" she asked with a tone of annoyance.

"I asked you if you were okay," he said to her slowly to mask the flint in his own voice. He was only slightly younger than her 26 years, a jock with a brush-cut if she had to guess; dark brown hair, regular brown eyes—just normal. A patch on his uniform read "Lafferty."

"I was just fine until you ran over my thousand dollar paycheck," she snapped.

"It was an accident," he spat, affronted, "I was a little too distracted by more important things; like the very large building on fire."

"This is a crime scene now. What if that canvas had been evidence, hmm?" she asked, knowing full well she was acting childish but she couldn't really stand to reason at the time as her head started to swim again. And besides, his mouth snapping shut with nothing to retort with made it all worth it.

"Miss?" came a different voice from behind her. "Is that your blood on the pavement?"

She turned around to face someone else she had seen on television all too often and then looked to the ground where he was pointing. There was a small puddle of blood reflecting the flames and she knit her eyebrows in confusion.

"I don't think so, Commissioner Gordon," she patted herself over her front and then her back. "Couldn't be mine."

He smiled at her sympathetically and tentatively took her left hand, patting it. "What's your name?" he asked her.

"Aristophane Smitte. Call me Aris," she answered.

"Aris dear, the back of your head is bleeding," he told her matter of factly, waiting for her reaction. She reached up with her free hand reflexively and immediately regretted it. Her world went white again, this time from pain instead of an explosion. She cringed and hissed, biting back a yell. When she brought her hand back in front of her face it was wet with blood.

"Shit," she muttered, more annoyed than shocked. Gordon chuckled at her nonchalance attitude and led her toward the ambulance. She was unhappy about the prospect of a hospital visit but her mood lightened considerably upon seeing her messenger bag intact a few feet away from the emergency vehicle. She scooped it up and gave the burning building one more wistful look before disappearing behind the ambulance and climbing inside.

"I want to question you so don't leave the hospital, I'll be there in an hour or so," he told her and started to walk away.

"It was the Joker," she called to him and he froze mid-stride. When he turned around he looked apprehensive.

"That's quite an accusation, Miss Smitte. The Joker did break out of Gotham a few months ago but he hasn't been heard from since then."

Aris rolled her eyes. "It was him. I may have hit my head but I was less than a foot away from him. There's no mistaking that man. He told me to tell you 'he's back'," the effect of her words was immediate. The Commissioner sprang into action, grabbing a male EMT and whispering something to him she couldn't hear. The EMT called to someone else as Gordon came back to the ambulance. He looked her straight in the eye, all business.

"I have to make one stop and then I'll be at the hospital to question you, Miss Smitte. I've instructed the EMT's to tell the hospital staff not to let you go anywhere, so no taking off on me, all right?" he asked her with a smile but his tone was very serious.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she answered, managing to smile back. He nodded appreciatively and was gone from sight. It seemed like less than a minute before the EMT's were loaded up and they were on their way. One of them wrapped her head on the way there and she couldn't help but sigh heavily at the thought of how long this night was going to last.


	2. Take Your Gloves and Get Out

**A/N: Thanks to MissCaityGrace for being awesome and reviewing!**

**Hello darlings! I just wanted to get a few things clear before anyone invested too much time into this. First of all, there will be no joker fluff in this story. If there is any fluff between him and the OC, it will probably be very one-sided. So if that's what you're looking for, that little red x in the corner will lead the way. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.**

**Second, I have a mouth on me. This story is rated M for a reason. There will be language and there will also most likely *eventually* be graphic sex. Again with the red x in the corner if you're not game.**

**Third, if you like what you see—rate, review, and add to your favorites/story alerts. If you're shy and don't want to post publicly, send me a personal message. I don't bite! Often. That's all for now though, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I own Aris and nothing else.**

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><p>"OWMOTHERFUCKINGSHIT!" screamed Aris into her hands as a nurse sewed the last of the stitches into the back of her scalp. She looked up at a stunned Gordon and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Commissioner, I refused painkillers," she explained.<p>

He nodded, still dumbfounded and then cleared his throat while going back to his notebook. "What else can you tell me about what happened, Miss Smitte?" he asked.

"Listen, I told you everything I can remember. Can I please go home? I'm exhausted," she whined slightly. She was telling the truth, she left nothing out. There wasn't much to tell. Besides, she was starting to ache all over and knew it would only be worse when she woke up in the morning. She looked from Gordon to the nurse hopefully. The nurse was the first to respond.

"You're not to go to sleep for another two hours at least, you have a concussion."

"I have just a few more questions and then I'll take you home when you're discharged," Gordon offered kindly and she smiled and nodded in thanks. "I understand that everything you went through tonight was a bit of a shock, but the way you tell me things went, it sounded as if you weren't scared of the Joker at all. Why's that?" he asked.

"I _was_ scared," she insisted, "it's just that running and screaming for my life wasn't going to do me any good, was it? If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it no matter what my reaction was. And frankly I would rather die with my dignity intact, wouldn't you?" she asked him, wincing as the nurse wrapped gauze around her head. He smiled at her thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose I would," he answered and then was silent. She took advantage of his pause while she could.

"If you're going to give me a ride home, you could just ask me any other questions you have in the car, right? I don't like hospitals, I would really like to leave," she begged him eagerly, earning a pat on the shoulder from the nurse before she left the room. He nodded, looking as tired as she felt. She was trying her best not to get snippy. She could tell that the Commissioner was on edge. It wasn't his job to question people but here he was and she knew it was because of the Joker. She had a feeling things were going to start getting a lot more interesting in Gotham.

The ride home was silent except for Gordon occasionally asking if Aris was still awake. He didn't ask her any more questions and she was glad for it. She pressed her feverish forehead against the cool window and looked up at the sky. She half expected to see the bat signal before remembering they had obliterated it a few months back. She kept her eyes on the blinding lights above to keep herself from drifting off and a few minutes later the car came to a slow stop in front of her apartment building.

Almost on the edge of the busiest part of the city, it was a small building compared to the others around it and she had loved it from the moment she first laid eyes on it. It had an old feel to it with its seemingly ancient brick and the vines creeping up the front and over the rooftop. She felt her heart swell at the sight of it, falling in love all over again.

"Call me down at the station if you remember anything else, see anything strange, or if you need anything," he said, giving her a card. "And remember to stay awake as long as you can manage."

"I will. Thank you for the ride," she said, scooping up her messenger bag and fleeing from the car. The Commissioner had been plenty comfortable to be around but she was eager to be home.

She took the stairs up to the second floor two at a time but held a hand to each wall to keep herself steady. She must have been too focused on getting inside her apartment as fast as possible because she didn't notice the dark figure in the shadow of the corner waiting for her as she slipped her key in the doorknob. Even if she had seen him it would have been too late. He whipped her around and had her pressed up against the wall with his hand over her mouth in one second flat. He had jostled her hard enough that her head smacked the boards behind her causing her head to explode with renewed pain. Her vision went immediately black and she found the struggle to breathe and stay conscious almost unbearable. Before she could let herself surrender to unconsciousness she found herself being dragged just as roughly as before into her apartment.

The black started to recede to the edges of her vision. When she could finally clear her head she saw she was kneeling on the ground, gasping over the floor. She looked up to reveal who had manhandled her and her mouth dropped. It was Batman and for some reason that really pissed her off.

"You utter jackass!" she screamed at him, still clutching her head. "You could have just asked to come in or something, I have a concussion and stitches, and now I'm going to have to stay up _even longer_ so I don't fall asleep and never wake up…" her fuming trailed off as she brought her hands forward to confirm her fear. She was bleeding again.

The large, looming figure awkwardly bent down on one knee to get closer to her level. He took her head gently between his gloved hands and pulled her face down so he could get a good look at her head. He unwrapped her bandages unceremoniously and then paused for a quick moment before replacing the gauze and placing one of her hands over it.

"The stitches are intact. Keep pressure on them and they'll stop bleeding shortly," he told her impatiently before grabbing her hands and practically dragging her to her feet. "I didn't mean to startle you but I couldn't run the risk of you screaming for help. I came here to ask you about your run-in with the Joker."

"Of course you did," Aris bit at him and immediately rolled her eyes as she backtracked through the doorway behind her to enter the kitchen. She set to work on getting a glass of water before she even so much as looked at him again. He stood in the doorway, agitation surrounding him like a big, dark, gloomy cloud.

"I wouldn't have screamed. I wouldn't have called for help. Not everyone in this city thinks you're the big bad," she started. She took a big gulp of her water before setting a few stray paintbrushes into it and then started to set up an easel that was folded up between the fridge and the wall. "Why don't you ask Gordon what happened? I assume he's the one who let you know it happened in the first place," she paused after this and waited but he just stared at her. "Okay so he's supposed to be 'hunting' you, I get it. But I have news for you, buddy. No one's buying it. Everyone knows you're still working together."

He smirked slightly and it was surprisingly becoming on the notoriously brooding figure. He walked a few more steps into the kitchen toward her so he could look her in the eyes.

"Listen, I've learned through experience that for whatever reason, people lie to the cops. I have to know whether or not you really saw the Joker tonight or if you were blaming something on him for another reason. This is very important," he stressed.

"I understand that," she leveled her eyes at him but tried not to let her flash of anger show. "I saw him, clear as day, right in front of my face. He told me to tell everyone he was back. That is really all I can tell you," she turned away from him and set a large canvas on the easel.

"Mam please, if there is anything-" he started but she whipped around and pointed at him threateningly.

"Oh, no. You're done, mister. You sneak up on me, re-injure me, infer that I may be lying to the police and then call me _mam_? I've honestly just had enough. I'm exhausted and I have very important things to do. I've told you everything I know so there is no longer a reason for you to be darkening my doorstep. Shoo," she actually started shoving him toward the door. "I imagine that if you are able to find out where I live, you're also perfectly capable of giving me a phone call. Next time, please take that route instead."

Aris pushed him through the door, shut it, and locked it before he could say a word. She stood there for a moment to take everything in and then started laughing quietly. The night had turned out to be quite surreal and though she was irritated about her injuries and interruptions, the excitement she had gotten from it thrilled her. She didn't stand there long as she was still on a mission from earlier. Re-entering the kitchen she grabbed as many bottles of paint as she could carry and brought them to the blank canvas. She didn't waste a second and started to paint feverishly. It wasn't more than an hour when she was finished (a personal best) and she collapsed backwards into a chair.

She had meant to paint the building that had exploded but in the end, the painting had been glaring back at her. The image of the Joker staring down on her must have invaded her subconscious. She had painted his eyes with the world surrounding them burning. It was the most profound thing she had ever done and she smiled before succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep sitting up in her chair.


	3. Like Fallout Vapor

**A/N: My apologies for the wait, one of my teachers thinks she's pretty funny giving us four chapters of a textbook to read in one week. And I've been sick, and my kid has been sick, and my hubby has a hole in his arm from a spider bite. I've been waiting for him to turn into Spiderman but nooooo...**

**Sooooo this is just setting some of the story up so it's not very exciting. Next chapter has the Joker and Mr. Bruce Wayne, so stick around. Thank you for all of your reviews and encouragement, you guys pretty much rock. :)**

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><p>Aris could barely pick her head up from it hanging over the back of the chair she had fallen asleep in only four hours earlier. She let out a loud and painful groan as she helped it along with her hands, her whole body ached and her head felt like it was screaming for relief. It took her a few moments to realize that her cell phone alarm was ringing from her purse and she groaned again. It was time for her to get ready for work.<p>

She struggled to open her eyes and when she finally managed it she jumped slightly at the eyes staring back at her. When she recognized it as her painting of the Joker she put a hand to her chest and stood slowly to stretch out the kinks in her spine. Ignoring the blaring cell phone for fear that she might topple over if she reached for it; she made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked into the mirror to assess the damage. The small amount of makeup she had worn had managed to give her raccoon eyes, the likes of which were bloodshot and dim. She was very pale and the back of her hair stood up where she assumed her stitches were.

"Still alive," she muttered before turning on the shower. She knew she would be late to work as she never gave herself that much time to get ready in the first place, so she decided to shrug it off and take as much time as she needed. Any sane person would have called in after a night like hers. She carefully washed up, took care of her wound and applied some aloe to her partially singed arms. After struggling through nausea at breakfast and swearing as she put on her work clothes, she searched for her knit hat but was unable to find it. She grabbed a fedora to hide the stitches, swallowed a few aspirin and was on her way.

Wayne Enterprises was only a few blocks from her apartment but the walk there seemed harder than usual. She only worked there a few days a week for a part-time filing job for a little money on the side; the rest of her income came from her paintings and with both of these she was able to live contentedly. Aris was able to carry her coat over her arm that morning as the sun was making a rare appearance that she was glad for. She was able to wear black slacks and a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up quite comfortably.

The front double doors to the tall building seemed heavier than normal and she found herself dizzy when she finally made it to the elevator. She pushed the down button as she worked a few floors underground and leaned on the wall to rest in wait. All she wanted to do was sit at the desk in the dim lights and do some light paperwork to pass the time, but before the elevator reached the ground floor she realized the secretary at the desk behind her was trying to get her attention.

"Miss Smitte! Mr. Fox wishes for you to sit here in the lobby and wait for him to come and see you," she called to her with a smile, though looking annoyed it had taken so long to get her to look over.

Aris nodded slowly and stepped away from the elevator toward the cushioned chairs in the sunniest spot in the room, in the corner of the lobby. She was confused as to what this was about. She had not so much as seen Lucius Fox since she had been hired. She was almost an hour late and had never been so before, but she worried slightly that she might be fired or reprimanded. She was still tired and her head was still throbbing, she wanted to cry at the thought to speaking or being spoken to. Why hadn't she called into work like a normal person? It only took two minutes and Lucius Fox was making his way out of the elevator toward her with a broad grin that put her a bit at ease.

"Please, sit down Miss Smitte and tell me what you're doing here this morning," he said, sitting across from her with his hands folded in his lap. Aris scrunched her eyes a bit and thought hard as if maybe she might have been missing something between the day before and that very moment.

"I work here?" she asked a little cautiously. "I'm scheduled to work this morning?" she tried.

"Of course you do, dear," Lucius chuckled slightly. "Everyone has heard about what happened to you last night. It was all over the news. We know you went to the hospital, no one expected you to show up today," he said kindly.

"Oh," she answered, a little flabbergasted. She had expected the whole ordeal to make the news but had not considered being on it herself. "Well, I'm fit to work."

Lucius smiled at her patiently. "I'm afraid Mr. Wayne himself insists that you take the day off—with full pay, of course."

Aris raised her eyebrows at him, torn between feeling insulted and impressed. "Bruce Wayne says go home, does he? I guess I have no choice in the matter than, do I?" she asked and he merely smiled in answer. "I suppose I'll be leaving then."

"May I call you a taxi?" he asked politely but she shook her head on instinct.

"Thank you, Mr. Fox. I'll walk," she hoped she had not sounded unkind as she briskly made her way back out of the building. Her mood had considerably soured. Not that it had been so bright to begin with, but she decided to let her anger fall on the playboy head-honcho who apparently had too much time on his hands to watch television and poke into her business. This almost brought a smile on her face until she was stopped by a familiar looking officer after not walking even ten feet from Wayne Enterprises' double doors.

"Shit," she said before she could stop herself. She turned a delicate shade of pink at her accidental slip but didn't apologize. It was Lafferty, the officer who had driven over her painting the night before. He was a lot less disheveled and a strong cologne radiated off of him in an overpowering way.

"Well, this isn't going exactly as I planned," he laughed, turning slightly pink himself. He shuffled his feet and gave her the most devilish grin she had ever seen shine her way. She wrinkled her nose and shuffled her own feet, only because she was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Can I help you? I had a long night, I just got kicked out of my office and I would very much like to get to the art studio so I can get to work on replacing the painting you ruined." She found her head was pounding harder the broader his grin grew.

"That's actually why I'm here. I feel awful about what happened and our argument was really unprofessional, so I would like to make it up to you," he said hopefully.

She paused before answering, "You're going to give me one thousand dollars?" She felt smug at the sudden falter in his grin.

"I'm afraid I'm not that well off, but I would like to take you out to dinner at Che'Gavare."

She wondered how many more times that day she would be wishing she had just stayed at home and medicated herself into a coma. Going out with Lafferty was the last thing she wanted to do and Che'Gavare—yet another place in Gotham owned by Bruce Wayne—was far too fancy for her taste. But seeing as how she had nothing but cereal in her apartment and the amount of painting she had to do made it impossible to go grocery shopping for at least a few more days…besides, both Lafferty and Bruce Wayne owed her.

"Okay," she conceded without any enthusiasm. They made plans for him to pick her up the next night and she took off as quickly as she could down the street, pretending she didn't hear him ask if she wanted a lift to the art studio. In the time it took her to make it about three more blocks over, it came to her that maybe she should have asked how he knew where to find her. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt about the upcoming dinner, and then she started feeling extremely vulnerable and even a bit stalked. First she's all over the news, then Batman is throwing her around in her own apartment, and now weird assholes were showing up where she worked. The words "should have stayed at home" played in time with the throbbing in her skull.

It wasn't long before she was standing out front of the studio. She smiled at the tall windows that were the source of the best natural light for painting outside of actually painting outdoors. Through the windows she could see the many easels that always stood waiting; there were only a handful of people at work behind them as there was no doubt the "sunrise group" had left hours before. She dropped her head and made her way inside, making sure to look for an easel away from everyone else; despite her raging headache she was still alight with the image of the ruined building from the night before and couldn't wait to get to work. As she took out her materials from her bag, she thought to herself that perhaps she could sell this particular painting to her client. Her client was a middle-aged heiress with an addiction to social get-togethers and dirty gossip. She would paint it either way, but the chance of getting the painting to her client one day late as opposed to a week brought a smile to her face.

Aris got to work as soon as she was ready, her thoughts on nothing but the events that transpired less than twenty-four hours before. The detonation played over and over in her mind; she imagined the blinding explosion, the heat on her skin and face, and the way every hair on her body stood on end while she watched the building burn with the Joker right next to her…

The building exploded again and she jumped, dropping her paintbrush on the floor. She looked around and realized she wasn't the only one to be startled, suddenly coming to the conclusion that the last explosion she heard hadn't been her imagination at all. It came again, louder and closer this time. The people around her all ran to the back of the room, some of the women screaming as the sound of gunshots started making their way toward them outside. Aris stood her ground, shaken but curious as well. It was only another minute or so before a few men in clown masks went running across the sidewalk in front of their building, carrying heavy duffel bags on their backs. The women behind her started shrieking again, everyone in Gotham knew who they were and what they meant. Aris held her breath, waiting.

He walked by their building last, shoulders hunched and looking somehow both bored and paranoid at the same time. The night before she hadn't been shocked when she saw him, it was dark out and it wasn't like she had never been a victim of one of the criminals in the city—but seeing him around in broad daylight, walking shamelessly after his frenzied henchmen was a little daunting. His painted face barely moved toward the studios' windows before he disappeared on the other side.

Aris let out a breath of relief, not knowing what she had expected to happen but feeling thankful anyway. This was short lived as not a moment later, the Joker reappeared. He walked backwards into view, taking a second look into the studio. He locked eyes with her and smiled. Aris felt like her heart had completely stopped and everything was going in slow motion. She could barely register the frightened people huddled behind her or anything else for that matter. The Joker's arm raised slowly and finally he pointed straight at her. She felt a hot flush of nerves come over her entire body.

"Oh shit," she muttered.


	4. I'm Not Much a Poet, But a Criminal

**A/N:** **You guys are AMAZING! Since my last chapter I have had a load of people add this story to their story alerts. You guys have really made me a happy lady! And your reviews have been so nice, I truly appreciate all of them. I'm sorry this update took so long, I have a couple weeks left in the semester and then I'll have some time off to write. Be excited!**

**I was going to keep writing this chapter but I figured you guys waited long enough for this. Please, if you are enjoying this, remember to review and add it to your story alert (or favorites, which those of you who did are my secretly my faves, shhh, don't tell...). If you're too shy to do it publicly or have a question, feel free to message me. Love you darlings!**

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><p>The Joker kicked the door to let himself in to the art studio and stopped to look around. His dark eyes roamed around the room for a few seconds before falling back on Aris. He pointed at her again and narrowed his eyes before asking, "Are you following me?"<p>

"Not at all. Are _you_ following _me_?" she quipped, her face steady and placid but her insides squirming in fear. She couldn't believe she could breathe a single word. The night before she had hit her head so hard his presence barely registered to her; but now she was completely lucid and he was addressing her directly—a different story entirely. He let out a loud "HA!" at her retaliating remark and skipped over to her. She started to tremble but had enough sense to not move. She didn't hear a peep from the people behind her and she willed them to keep quiet—for their own sake and for hers. The Joker had a pistol in his right hand and he swung it around wildly. He stopped only a foot away from her, too close for comfort, and shrugged his shoulders at her.

"I suppose it's just a happy coincidence then, seeing you…here…right after I blew up a building…_again_," he emphasized and waited for her to respond but this time she had nothing smart to say so she blankly stared instead. It was hard to see any definable characteristics underneath the caked on makeup, except for the scars of course. He reeked of gasoline fumes and she idly mused over the thought of how lucky he was not to catch himself on fire with all of the explosions he was generating. He pointed at her again, his finger inches from her face.

"I have something for you," he said mysteriously. There was a table next to the both of them and he casually put the gun onto it before diving into both outside pockets of his purple jacket. Aris cringed inwardly as he pulled out a few knives in each hand and held them before her, thinking. "Nope," he said nonchalantly before putting those on the table as well and then reaching for an inside pocket.

She pulled her focus in so she could think about what she could use to defend herself. She had dropped her paint brush and nothing else was in reach besides the insane amount of weapons he was piling on the table. She had a feeling if she tried for one he would kill her instantly; that maybe this whole display was in hope that she would, like some kind of game. She had taken several self-defense classes, but knew it would only serve her until he could get a hold of a knife which he probably still had on him. She watched him pull random things from random pockets including more knives, matches, and a screwdriver, all the while chuckling to himself.

"Aha!" he exclaimed as he procured some kind of dirty grey fabric, pulling it from one of his sleeves like a magic trick. He beat it against his knee a few times and then presented it to her. Her eyes widened in recognition and surprise. Though her knees were growing weak, she reached out and took it from him. It was her grey knit hat; it must have fallen off of her head when the building blew up. Despite the strange situation, she expected herself to actually thank him. But as no words came when she normally couldn't shut herself up, she wondered if she might be going into shock.

She looked up to see his eyes locked on hers while mindlessly storing his stash back into his pockets. The gun went back in his hand last and he looked from it to her a few times, his tongue in his cheek as he seemed to be thinking over something very hard. He took a sudden step toward her and taking her off guard, she involuntarily took a step back away from him. He cocked his head, silently observing her while his mouth twitched up a few times. She gathered herself quickly, making herself aware of his stance, his gun arm and his facial movements so she would be ready to defend herself…but then he turned away from her. First his upper body turned so he could glance at her painting and then the rest followed shortly after.

Aris hadn't realized she had finished her painting; she had lost track of time and gotten lost in the memory of the explosion. She couldn't believe her focus could be taken away from the man standing inches from her but it was sincerely the best work she had ever done. It was almost exactly how she remembered it. The Joker burst into a fit of laughter and that shook her from her reverie. He again pointed his finger at her and this time shook it at her while shaking his head.

"You," he said and nothing more after that. He picked up the painting and promptly left the building without looking back. Aris clutched her hat to her chest and breathed out heavily, trying to snap out of it. Her whole body felt leaden, but when she felt she could move again she looked back at the people behind her to see them hovering and panicking over a phone—this made her feel a bit more in control. She looked back to her empty easel and let what just happened dawn on her. She dropped her arms as she abruptly came back fully to herself again. One might think that her thoughts would be racing at this point, but only one sentence screeched through her mind: HE STOLE MY PAINTING.

"Sonofabitch!"

Aris awoke the next morning to find she was hanging halfway off of the couch and was also heavily covered in paint. Though her stitches stung something fierce, she found herself thankful her whole skull didn't feel like imploding that morning. The faint smell of gasoline wafted over her and she had to remind herself that it was coming from the hat the Joker had given back to her. Despite its disgusting state, she put it back on her head when she went back to re-doing the painting he had stolen from her; she found it had helped along with the process.

Groaning heavily, she pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbed her eyes and practically jumped backwards off of the couch in surprise. The dark, looming figure of Batman was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and looking as stoically impatient as ever.

"Seriously?" she screeched and threw a large pillow at him. He watched it bounce off of his chest and just went back to leering at her as she was still perched on top of the couch with a hand over her heart. She slowly climbed her way down, glaring at him as he steadily glared right back. "It's day-time. What are you doing out? Why are you in my apartment? I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation. If you're just going to show up you could knock on the door…or the window if you don't want to be seen."

He opened his mouth but she pushed past him into the kitchen to hit the brew button on the coffee maker and in a silly fit of paranoia, made sure her painting was still there. She ignored Batman and stopped to look it over. It wasn't as good as the one the Joker had stolen but it would do. The mood seemed a whole lot angrier in this one, though understandably so, or so she had justified to herself. Batman cleared his throat to try to get her attention but she went on rummaging through the cupboards for a mug and then something to eat. When she turned around to continue on he was right in front of her, blocking her way and looking down on her in an unimpressed fashion.

"Don't make me give you another concussion," he warned, though she could have sworn she saw him try to hide a smirk. She couldn't help but smile up at him and shake her head.

"I have nothing to tell you that I haven't told Gordon all ready," she answered honestly. She had been grilled again after the art studio incident after the police were called. Though she was thoroughly irritated at how long it had all taken, she hadn't left anything out on either occasion and had no real reason to, not even about the part where the Joker had returned her hat.

"Really?" he asked, condescendingly. "It looks awfully fishy that you and the Joker have had two encounters over the course of two days and on neither occasion has he harmed you…purposefully," he added when she rolled her eyes. "And then there are these," he stated, waving a hand to the paintings behind him of the Joker and the blown-up building.

"Okay," Aris started and threw her hands up in the air before pushing by him again to stand in front of her paintings. "I get that this looks funny, but like I told the police, it's honestly a coincidence. And you know what? I've had a serious lack of inspiration lately, and as fucked up as it sounds, the past few days have been very good for my painting. I'm sorry you don't understand, but I'm not going to sit here and explain it to you. I'm also not going to let you stand there and accuse me of whatever the hell you're insinuating," she ended by folding her arms but he did nothing but look at her without saying a word.

"It's been a long couple of days. I need to get this painting to my client, I need to buy groceries, I need to find time to make myself look nice enough to go Che'Gavare with some shmuck who guilted me into a date and…you know what? It's that time again. It's time to go," she said and started pushing him out of the kitchen. This time he stopped in his tracks and grabbed her wrist, bringing her to his chest and forcing her to look up at him.

"I'll be keeping a close eye on your dealings, Miss Smitte. If there's anything you think of that you might need to tell me, call Gordon and let him know," his voice held warning again and she surprised him by ripping out of his grasp.

"You don't have to believe me, but I won't be bullied in my own home. You've far overstayed your welcome. Leave," she said through gritted teeth and as an air of finality she went back to her mug, ignoring him completely and started pouring herself a cup of coffee. She stubbornly waited a few minutes to even look up to see if he had complied with her demand. There was no sign of him and she rubbed her now bruised wrist. "Ouch." It had saved her from pinching herself. She couldn't believe all that had happened just within the span of few days. She knew she should have felt more wary and stressed, but she saved those reservations for her upcoming "date."

Aris stood in front of the mirror on her bedroom door looking over her powder blue, sleeveless, tea-length dress. It had been a very long time since she had worn it and was honestly one of the only nice things that she owned that wasn't too ostentatious. The fabric wasn't much more than chiffon and stretch satin and the neckline was subtle enough to be comfortable. The color of the dress made her hair stand out a little brighter as it hugged her shoulders in loose waves, thankfully taking any notice away from the fact that she was wearing white flats. She contemplated wiping off some of her makeup, not wanting to make the wrong impression on Lafferty. She wanted to get this all over with as soon as she could.

She had called Lafferty before she started to get ready to tell him she would meet him at the restaurant because she was running late, but the truth was she really didn't want him familiar with where she lived. She called for a cab and told the driver to take his time; she even got to survey some of the wreckage from the Joker's shenanigans the day before as they had to find a way around the debris. She idly wished she had enough time to get out of the cab and poke around the place. She remembered the news saying this building was just as condemned as the last. The buildings didn't stand for anything. She guessed they didn't store anything besides some kind of ancient, forgotten city documents. She wondered what the purpose of blowing them up was. Did it matter?

Aris paid the driver when they stopped in front of the ridiculous glare of Che'Gavare. She decided it was time to quit stalling and get it all over with. She strode over to the short, overdressed male Maître D' and gave him Lafferty's name. He looked over her simple dress with an air of disapproval before motioning for her to follow him to a table at the back of the restaurant.

It was like a palace, the cathedral ceilings seemed to go on forever and the rooms were separated into two immense eating areas and another large room for the bar. The walls were the purest whites and gleaming golds. She felt very out of place as the people at the tables she passed watched her squeeze by. She suddenly wished she had gotten more dressed up, if not for Lafferty then to make sure she didn't stand out as much as she so vividly realized she did. The back was a little more quiet, dim and intimate than the rest of the place which wasn't exactly as comforting as it should have been. She shuddered a little before taking a seat that the Maître D' offered her.

"Mr. Lafferty sends a message that he is running late and he hopes you will forgive his absence and order some wine before he arrives," he said to her without looking at her at all, as if the mere thought of her appearance offended him. She found herself not only annoyed by the Maître D's actions, but by the fact that she was to be kept waiting for something she did not want to be doing in the first place. She opened her mouth to let out what would no doubt be something quite unladylike as per usual but she was cut off by the man cutting in at the table behind her.

"Well then you best go and get her a bottle of our best on the house. A woman arriving late is fashionable and expected, a man late on the other hand…well, that's just rude," he said and the Maître D' instantly ran off to comply. Aris turned around and she smiled unthinkingly when her eyes landed on the stunning man in front of her. With the way things were going that week, she really should have expected this.

"Of course," she almost laughed, "Bruce Wayne."


	5. So Raise Your Glass High

**A/N: It's been a long couple of months since an update, hasn't it? I can't even begin to explain all that's been going on. But just so you know, if anyone is ever wondering what the status is on the next update, I will be writing them on my profile. Or you can just message me and ask. Even though it's been a long time, people are still adding the story to alerts and favorites-you have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you all for sticking around. I promise not to leave you hanging forever, but I can't promise fast updates. I have way too much going on to make this any kind of priority. I have to apologize as this is not an exciting update at all. There will be a few more filler chapters but then I'll get the ball rolling, I promise! Thanks again, darlings! Leave me some love, okay?**

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><p>"Of course," Aris almost laughed, "Bruce Wayne."<p>

He smiled radiantly at her and then she really did laugh. Her life had been quite uneventful for a long time up until a few days ago and now the surprises just kept coming. Bruce Wayne's appearance was just as attractive in real life as it was on her television, though he had changed a bit from the last time she had seen him on one of the Gotham nightly news channels. His face had gained some well-maintained scruff and his hair had that expertly tousled look, unlike the usual slick, baby-faced façade he was known for. The rest of him was just as rich and extravagant as you could imagine, though the skin around his eyes were dark as if he might have trouble sleeping. It took less than a minute for a waiter to come with the wine. Aris took a sip, raised her eyebrows and nodded her appreciation and approval at Bruce.

"So, do you frequent your own restaurants often Mr. Wayne?" she asked with a sardonic tone without really meaning to. He didn't skip a beat, leaning in toward her as if to tell her a secret.

"To tell you the truth, I try to as little as possible. But I have to make appearances once in a while. Though now I'm glad I came tonight—and please, call me Bruce," he said, giving her another dashing smile. She had been about to have more wine but then put the glass back down. She was not prepared to have to deal with two self-involved little boys in one night.

"Thank you for the gesture Mr. Wayne, but I'm afraid it might be wasted. I'm giving my 'date' less than five minutes before I thankfully make my way home," she struggled to be firm but polite in her tone. She caught his expression before he spoke again. He looked away, his eyebrows furrowed and he subtly nodded to himself before leaning back in his chair.

"It sounds like you're not particularly happy to be out with your intended tonight," he said and smirked, as if prodding her playfully. It was as if his demeanor had changed completely; he went from prince creep to aloof charmer in half a second flat. While this usually would have put her on alert, she found herself caught up in his act, mirroring his smile and jumping to her reply.

"I blame you for me being here, waiting for this awful piece of work!" she said good-naturedly and grabbed up her wine glass again. His mouth dropped and he laughed as he seemed to struggle to figure out what she was talking about.

"I only just met you tonight, I'm sure of it. I don't see how…" he trailed off, making sure he wasn't forgetting something important and she laughed back at him.

"If you had not sent Lucius Fox to kick me out of Wayne Enterprises yesterday morning, I could have been in the basement doing my job and refused to see him when he came stalking me at work—"

"Wait, wait, wait. You're…" he had leaned forward again and pointed at her with his eyes pinched, trying to remember her name. She held out her hand to him.

"Aristophane Smitte."

He dropped his head in mock embarrassment as he took her hand in one of his own and patted it with the other. His hands were rough, not exactly what she expected. "I suppose I should keep better track of who works for me. Shouldn't you be at home resting?" he asked her with a little frown.

"I had a small concussion and the closest thing I've ever had to sunburn," she started, and rubbed her arms as she suddenly remembered the burning warmth of the fire. "There's no need for me to be bed-ridden," she said, and mentally patted herself on the back that the sentence that came out of her mouth was that rather than "Yes, mother." An awkward silence set in and Aris glanced at the large, ornate clock across the room, looming high over the entrance. She decided to wait a few more minutes and was sure she would be able to leave well before Lafferty showed up. She turned back to Bruce and gave him a small smile. "What is your date's brilliant excuse for being late?"

"She's a model, so naturally she likes to make me wait. It makes them think they have some kind of hold on me," he couldn't hide his derisive snort as he took a gulp of his own wine, like the thought alone made him want to be drunk. "What's your date's excuse?"

"He's a cop," she shot back at him and smiled to herself ruefully. "I'm sure he's off saving the city from evil-doers or something."

"Maybe he's secretly Batman," he said and wiggled his eyebrows. Aris couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing before she could think to stifle herself, and the open, quiet space made her seem even louder in retrospect. She turned her face to the rest of the dining room to assess just how rude her outburst had come across but her view was abruptly blocked by the still-uniformed Lafferty, smiling awkwardly down at her in his confusion.

"Oh, shit," she said and clapped both hands over her mouth before regressing back into a fit of laughter at the thought of the overly oiled and perfumed egotist in front of her as being the masked vigilante that had been in her apartment that very morning. Lafferty's face fell and flushed an ugly, angry red. Bruce was hiding a smile behind his wine glass as he turned away. Aris cleared her throat and stopped laughing but the smile did not leave her face. "Sorry, long story," she whispered and took a good long drink as Lafferty sat down.

"You're going to start giving a guy a complex," he laughed but the look on his face gleaned seriousness. She raised her eyebrows and went over the menu, secretly wishing she could stomp on both his and Bruce's feet—Bruce for distracting her and making her overstay her five minutes, and Lafferty for being an insufferable prick. The feeling seemed to sprout wings as Bruce's date arrived; a blonde bombshell spilling out of a shiny salmon-colored frock she guessed was made by a brand she couldn't pronounce and cost more than five or six of her paintings. Lafferty sat straighter in his chair and puffed out his decorated chest. She would have laughed had she not suddenly felt she was surrounded by people aiming to ruin her night.

"So why were you late?" she asked and swallowed the last gulp of wine in her glass before pouring herself another. She noted that the bottle was already half gone but for once she didn't feel guilty. She was going to need all the alcohol she could get to play nice with Lafferty.

"You didn't hear?" he scoffed and smiled largely. "The Joker blew up another building."

Aris choked in surprise and tried to talk through a coughing fit. "Where?" she asked in surprise.

"Some abandoned building in the narrows, all the way on the other side of the city. I guess you wouldn't have heard unless you were watching the TV. I'm starting to think he's just doing it for shits and giggles. That or he's gone soft. He hasn't killed anyone since his escape, which I hear is really unlike him…" he went off on a tangent and she guessed he was trying to be impressive. She zoned out and stared off into space. She wouldn't pretend she knew more than anyone else about the Joker, but somehow she doubted he had gone soft. When she thought about the fact that it was just another abandoned building it made her stomach churn. Something wasn't right. Though she believed that her several meetings with the Joker were purely coincidental, she couldn't help but feel a shiver of silly, selfish fear creep up her spine. "I still can't believe you didn't hear the news. Were you under a rock the whole day?" he finally finished.

"The opposite actually. I had an unexpected visitor this morning and then I was busy getting a very late painting to my client," she smirked smugly as his cocky grin fell. This set the tone for the rest of the night. Lafferty would try to impress Aris and she would subtly knock him down a few notches. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally stood to use the restroom, noticing that Bruce's date left the table behind her as well. She sat silently for a moment before deciding to speak.

"You know, when you first came back to Gotham after your disappearance when everyone thought you were dead…well, for the longest time I was convinced that _you _were Batman."

When he didn't reply she turned around. He was leaning back in his chair, looking at her with a very tired grin on his face. "Silly me," she said idly. She felt strangely drawn to him in that moment and the feeling forced her to turn away. When Lafferty came back to the table she insisted she was finished and wished to go home. He paid the bill and walked with her out to the curb outside of the restaurant.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" he pushed as she had rejected the idea twice all ready.

"I'm quite sure. I'll just take a cab home."

"I could take the cab with you and make sure you get back safely," he said, trying to be smooth. His pressure to go home with her made her want to vomit.

"That's really not necessary. It's been a long day and I'm very tired. Thank you for dinner, you no longer owe me anything. Really," she insisted curtly. This caused him to finally get the point and go on his way. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, finally released from that smothering feeling of the obligation to be polite—finally free of that awful restaurant and all of the people in it…or so she thought.

"Do you need a ride?" Bruce's head popped into her side-vision and she let out a huge gush of air before laughing.

"No. I do not want strange men knowing where I live. I don't need protection. All I want to do is go home in a cab. I want to get drunk off of _cheap_ wine, not bought for me by rich men out on dates. I want to pass out on my couch and have the luxury of regretting everything that happened today in the morning," she trailed on and Bruce was laughing the entire time.

"You should come have a coffee with me," he said, grinning from ear to ear and eyes sparkling.

"What? No," she answered surprised.

"Some other time then?" he asked. She simultaneously felt like hitting him, stepping out into traffic, and never leaving her apartment again.

"I didn't say 'rain check,' I said no," she answered and ground her teeth. A cab finally pulled up and she quickly entered while stealing a glance at Bruce. He stood there still grinning. She guessed he was waiting for the valet to bring his car.

"Have a good night, Aristophane Smitte," he waved. She shook her head at his amusement and found she couldn't help herself as she stepped back out of the taxi, keeping the door between them.

"I'll tell you what. Find out when I'm working. If you happen to decide to come down from your throne on top of Wayne Tower to visit us basement-dwellers…I may consider coffee," she laughed again, hardly believing she just allowed herself to do such a thing. She didn't wait for a reaction as she re-entered the cab and made her way back to her apartment.


	6. You Strike to Incinerate

**A/N:** **Bet you didn't think I was updating again, did you? Did you think I disappeared? Shame on you...**

**I hope that the length and content make up for how long it has taken me. I could go on and on with excuses but you probably just want to read the update now. It starts a little slow but we get some action at the end! Okay darlings, it's really late here and I'm exhausted. Leave me love! Reviews (constructive criticism is considered love as well), messages. I always reply! And I'm even nice. Go figure.**

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><p>Aris sat on the floor of her apartment in front of the couch and behind her living room table, drinking wine and effectively ignoring whatever was currently on the television. It really wasn't that hard as she was distracted by the plethora of paintings surrounding her; she could not even sit on the couch as it was covered with them as well. It had only been a week and a half since her "date" with Lafferty but she just could not stop painting ever since then. All of the excitement, fear, frustration, and most of all annoyance all came flooding out of her. She had never painted so much in her life. She was even itching to paint at that moment but not only was she out of space; she was out of canvases and out of spending money.<p>

She was in quite the predicament. She needed to sell some paintings but did not have enough money to rent a space so she could do a show like she usually did when she came up with enough paintings to do so. She sat there with an invitation in front of her, wanting to pout. This was her only real option. Her best and most recent client, Mrs. Penelope Turner, was constantly inviting Aris to her high-class parties so that she could help her receive more clients. Aris was no stranger to these kinds of parties. While her family had never been truly wealthy, their kindness and constant contributions to the city always ensured their names were on the list to things like charity parties and auctions. But she had not even dreamed of attending another since her parents had died.

The norm would be that these invitations would promptly find their way to the trash and Aris would never hear the end of it from Mrs. Turner when she would sell her a painting. But now she sat in front of the gaudy piece of paper, glaring at it as if its mere presence was insulting her. A few more minutes of this and some more liquid courage later she said, "Fine," to no one in particular and dialed the number for Mrs. Turner.

"Aris, darling! What can I do for you?" her voice came over the receiver high-pitched and as loud as ever. Aris winced and pulled the phone away from her ear a few inches before responding.

"Hello, Mrs. Turner. I wanted to inquire about your charity ball. I realize it is only a few days away, but -"

"You're going to come, darling? Oh, tell me that you are coming! This makes me so happy! You need to bring your lovely paintings with you; three for me to show to my guests and one for the auction. Oh, I'm so thrilled by this news, Aris! You make sure to wear a nice dress and get here early with your paintings. I will see you in a few days! Bye, bye now," her trilling voice stopped abruptly and then the line went dead.

Aris blinked a couple of times before setting the phone down. She had at least a hundred conversations like this with Mrs. Turner and she really didn't think she would ever get used to it. She wanted to do nothing more than sulk and mutter about the party that would no doubt be incredibly uncomfortable and over-stimulating for her, but then a loud crash came from the kitchen. She sprang to her feet with the empty wine bottle in hand, leapt over the table and made her way to the kitchen, clumsily bumping into other paintings on the way.

She had a peek around the corner only to sigh heavily and move to pick up the painting that had fallen of its own accord. Some part of her had been truly excited by…who knows. Someone trying to steal her paintings? Batman standing in her kitchen, being a jerk? She had been just fine with her mundane life that consisted of going to work, painting, eating, and sleeping. No nosey friends, no insufferable dates. Numbness and drifting was just fine with her until all of the excitement recently. There had been no sign of Batman tailing her anywhere and the Joker had all but disappeared. She thankfully hadn't heard from Lafferty at all and Bruce Wayne had never visited her at work; had she been drunk when she asked him to? She must have been drunk…but now? Now she was just bored—bored and hollow and listless. She leaned her back against the counter and slid down to the floor. There was nothing left for her to do now but wait.

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><p>After a few days of general boredom and anxiety over what was to come, Aris stood before her full-length mirror in a long and simple black dress. It was a strapless number with the back trailing on the floor and a small slit in the front so that she could walk properly; it was very pretty but best of all, it was comfortable. There was finally room enough to move around the space a little now that she had three large paintings out of her cramped apartment. She had given a great sigh of relief when Mrs. Turner had sent someone to pick them up without her asking a few hours before. She had been stressing over how she was going to do so with no money and no car. Three large paintings would not have gone over well in a taxi, if at all.<p>

She gave up trying to do anything special with her hair and just made sure it fell in pretty waves over her right shoulder. A little red lipstick, light eyeliner, and some old black heels later and she was ready to go. She was still feeling nervous as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the door. She knew she wasn't going to exactly stand out tonight and would have to put herself out there if she wanted to get any business. An introvert at heart whose small talk often came across as brash or rude, she started to fret internally as she made her way down the stairs of the apartment building. She could charm the socks off of anyone if she really had to, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it. Tonight it was imperative that she put on a show. She kept this in mind as she made her way into the awaiting taxi with the only cash she had left to spend; just enough to get her to the ball and back home.

She had to keep coaching herself the whole way there as she feared she would really talk herself into going back home. Once the cab had been a good mile or so down the road she was able to make herself relax a little; it was really too late to turn around as it would have been a waste of the little money she had. The cab only traveled a few more miles after that into the heart of city before they stopped in front of one of the grand hotels that she had never dared to dream to be seeing the inside of. Mrs. Turner had rented out the entire hotel for the night so that her guests would have all of the time and room in the world to enjoy themselves. Aris paid the taxi driver, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and stopped to look up at the large building. It only had about twenty stories but judging by the size of each window, the rooms were more like large apartments than hotel rooms. The whole building was lit in soft blues which she found strangely inviting.

A wolf-whistle sounded from somewhere to her right and Aris was startled back into the here and now. There were three large and looming men leaning against the building next to the hotel, all nodding and leering at her. It was hard to see the details of their faces but before she could think to react in any way she was taken by the arm and her invitation was taken out of her hand. Her usual initial reaction would have been to pull away but when she saw that it was an older gentleman and he was leading her toward the hotel, she allowed it.

"I hope you'll oblige an old man to escort you inside, my dear. It seems as if we are attending the same gala and I just could not live with myself if I left you alone on the street with those ruffians," he said gently and sincerely as he patted the hand wrapped in his arm. His voice was very calming and he was very charming. Aris certainly wasn't known for her comfort with strangers but she smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you. My name is Aristophane Smitte. Though please, do call me Aris," she said, trying to be as formal and friendly as possible.

"Alfred Pennyworth," he returned her smile, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Aris."

"And you as well," she answered truthfully.

Alfred seemed to know where he was going so she didn't question him when they made their way to the elevator. She kept her eyes trained ahead of her as her few glances of the lobby itself was so breathtaking that it was making her nervous again. Some people who walked in behind them made their way to a giant staircase on the other side of the room and other guests followed them into the very roomy elevator. Aris could feel the lush carpet under her heels. It was soft but at the same time it didn't catch her heels at all. The elevator walls had a beautiful cherry wood feel to them. The guests around her—mostly women—chatted nonstop the entire elevator ride. First they talked about Mrs. Turner and her money, the auction, the men they came with and so on. They even glanced back at her and Alfred at one point and whispered something she didn't catch, but she didn't care. Honestly they talked so high and fast that Aris likened them to a pair of birds chirping back and forth in their own little foreign language.

The doors opened on the eleventh floor and because Aris and Alfred were in the back she was able to take a deep breath to steady herself before he led her out into what was undeniably the main ballroom. She could not keep her eyes from widening. While she had been to many of these events in the past it had been a good long time at that and things had obviously changed in the world of money and prestige. Though the room was round it seemed endless in length with the perfect wood floors going on for what seemed like forever. Some more of the lush carpet and draped tables were strategically placed around the room. The food and drink on the tables seemed endless as well. Numerous crystal chandeliers of different sizes hung from the ceiling. Paintings big and small decorated the walls in-between a grand staircase and a few different floors for what she assumed were more hotel rooms at the back of the building. The wall opposite this was not a wall at all, but a window—floor to ceiling, wall to wall, with white silk curtains that looked to be rippling from the blue glow of the outside lights. She was trying to catch her breath when she heard her name being called.

"You're here! Oh darling, I'm so happy to see you at my party!" Mrs. Turner called and came rushing over. She immediately took Aris' face and just beamed at her. "I have to admit that I was a tad evil and sent my boys to pick up your paintings. I assumed that if I could steal them that I could get you here. You look so pretty tonight, look at you. I wish your mother and father were here to see you."

Aris laughed and politely extracted Mrs. Turner's hands from her face and gave them a friendly squeeze but said nothing as the turn of conversation made her uncomfortable.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Mrs. Turner called out suddenly, alarming both her and Alfred…only Alfred's face turned from startled to guilty. "Tell me you are here to hold his coat. Tell me you are waiting on him and he will be here at any moment, Mr. Pennyworth."

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Turner. Mr. Wayne is caught up in some work tonight. He sends his apologies and of course, me, to contribute to your charity and auction," Alfred looked appropriately apologetic as he took Mrs. Turner's hands from Aris.

"He told me himself that he would be here," Mrs. Turner and Alfred went back and forth about it as Aris snatched what she assumed was a small glass of scotch off of a waiter's platter as he walked by. It was gone in two quick gulps. She had been glad to hear that Bruce Wayne wouldn't be showing up and very surprised to find that she had inadvertently taken the arm of someone who works closely with him. The comfort she had felt before wasted away into awkwardness as she scanned the room, watching people silently and trying to stay out of the still-heated conversation going on beside her.

"And you must go into the auction room to sneak a glance at one of Aris' paintings before you go. You need to tell Bruce all about her and—" Mrs. Turner had started a more pleasant conversation with Alfred and Aris' face suddenly reddened.

"No, no. That's really not necessary. I'm sure Mr. Wayne has more expensive taste than the amateur paintings of a law-school dropout," she babbled awkwardly for a moment and they both just stared at her. Mrs. Turner's eyebrows lifted high on her forehead and before Alfred could get out what Aris assumed would be an incredibly sweet insistence on seeing her paintings, Mrs. Turner grabbed her arm and started hustling her away.

"Good to see you, Mr. Pennyworth! I can't have you hogging Aris when I have _so_ many people to introduce her to!" She waved to him over her head without looking back and dragged Aris to a secluded spot next to the staircase before rounding on her. "If one of your paintings were to catch Bruce Wayne's eye, you could be set for life, my dear. I know you better than you think. What on earth was that about?" The look in Mrs. Turner's eyes was a mixture of concern and a blatant hunger for controversy. Aris fought the urge to roll her eyes. She thought to herself that if Mrs. Turner wasn't so addicted to gossip, she would have known her well enough to leave well enough alone.

"Some other time," Aris begged with her most pleading smile. Mrs. Turner pursed her lips for a moment but relented; nodding her head and immediately leading Aris to a spot under one of her paintings without further explanation.

The next hour and a half seemed like forever as Aris was introduced to what seemed like every person that attended the party. She had met a great deal of the stereotypical snobbish rich people, but she was also presented to more than a handful of sweet older men, some charming women only a little older than she, and even some people who were quite awkward and shy. While all of this interaction was exhausting, many people brought her glasses of wine which helped her resolve tremendously. She received many compliments on her paintings and Mrs. Turner stayed by her side, handing out beautiful business cards with Aris' name on them that she was not aware that she had made up. No matter how loud, obnoxious, and intrusive she could be; Aris had always been fond of Mrs. Turner. All that she had done for her that night made that fondness even stronger.

Aris felt that she was doing a masterful job and had no doubt that she would attain at least one client from her night's work—but she was ready for a break. "Excuse me, I'm going to just go and…powder my nose," she said. The phrase felt awkward coming from her mouth. She shook her head after excusing herself from the polite couple chatting away with Mrs. Turner.

She couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough. After relieving herself from the great amount of wine she had to drink, Aris spruced up her makeup in the mirror and made her way to what she could only describe as "the bathroom lobby." It was a small space set before the actual bathroom with a few chairs, small tables, and a loveseat. She shook her head at the ridiculous ostentatiousness of it but found she was sitting down on an ornate couch anyway and taking off her shoes to rest a spell. She wanted to rub her eyes as she daydreamed about her big plush bed back home but she rubbed her feet instead. Her chest heaved a bit as she tried to clear her mind. There were more than a few people there that knew her parents when they were alive and started to gush about them to her. Her parents were great benefactors to the city and well-liked by many people. She had lost them both a few years back—too young, too soon—she didn't want to think about it anymore. She wanted to go home and be away from these people but she knew she couldn't leave until after the auction. She wished she had a distraction from all of this mess; anything to divert her from people's sympathies and to pull her out of the tawdry masquerade she was playing out…

And then there was screaming.

Aris felt a chill run up her spine and goose bumps raise all over her body. Shoes forgotten, she was hardly aware that she padded softly but quickly to the bathroom door and quietly peeked out into the ballroom. She saw something that made her heart start pounding in a mixture of fear and excitement—men with clown masks were swarming into the room, pulling people out of the auction room adjacent to her and herding them in the direction of the grand window where she could not see. She could see two male's bodies on the top and bottom of the stairs lying on the floor. She could not tell whether they were dead or merely unconscious. One of the masked clowns made his way to the men's bathroom about twenty feet away and she knew it was only a matter of time before one of them searched the women's bathroom as well. Despite the alarming situation, her thinking was quite clear. The first thing she did was take her cell phone from her purse, dial 911, and then stick it between the loveseat cushions so the masked men would most likely not find it or be any the wiser. She then proceeded to look for another way out. There was only one door and the windows were far too small to fit through. She had only just begun contemplating trying to find a ventilation shaft or something when she heard the scared sound of the guests go quiet and the eerily familiar voice of the Joker take over outside the door. Against her better judgment, she gave the bathroom one last glance before biting her bottom lip and making her way back to the door.

When she peeked out of the door again, Aris found many things happened at once, though it all felt much longer in retrospect. She should have been alarmed to see one of the masked men coming straight toward the women's bathroom, but her attention was immediately drawn to the center of the room where the Joker held Mrs. Turner's face in one hand and a gun in the other, pressed to her forehead. Her heart felt like it dropped into her stomach. _No_, she thought. The only person in the world she had left, the only person she let stay in her life. The woman who, despite being over the top and pushy, her heart had swelled over in the past hour…and at that thought, she started moving. Aris pushed aside the door and walked into the ballroom past the shocked clown minions, eyes locked on the two people in the center.

"Hey!" Aris' voice boomed in the large expanse, immediately grabbing absolutely everyone's attention. She would never admit it, but when the Joker's eyes landed on her, it felt as if all air left her body—like she had been socked in the stomach. But despite this, her feet never faltered and she didn't stop until she had pushed herself physically between him and Mrs. Turner; she pushed her a little harder so she would hopefully get the hint to move back toward the crowd. She leveled her eyes at the Joker's own impossibly dark orbs and raised her chin to try and exude the confidence she felt leaving her body. "Leave her be," she said with surprising command and warning in her voice. What could she do against a bunch of men with guns? She hadn't really thought about it. But at least she had effectively taken the attention away from Mrs. Turner.

The Joker narrowed his eyes in slight recognition and Aris knew the exact moment it sank in because he started to laugh. "You know, I've been watching my back ever since our last little encounter, just waaaaaaiting for you to pop up again. And here you are. You certainly don't disappoint," he said and surprised her by grabbing her hand and twirling her around. This act in itself would have thrown her off but the twirl ended in his hand around her throat. Her hands came up to his arms but she didn't dare pull away as he was not yet squeezing hard enough to cause any lasting damage. He nodded to someone to his right before his attention was back on her. She heard a wet splashing noise behind her. "The thing is, darling…it was fun at first, this little game we've been playing. But I don't like to be interrupted, and I certainly don't need to be watching my back any more than I already do _so_," he shoved her backwards and she splashed through a thick line of gasoline with her bare feet and the tail of her dress before someone in the crowd caught her. "Two birds with one stone," he said as he grinned from ear to ear at her and then lit a match.

People started to scream before the match even hit the floor. The man that had caught her scooped her up into his arms and she was utterly confused until she realized that he had just saved her gasoline-soaked feet and dress from lighting on fire. The gasoline had been poured in a way that made a big half circle, trapping all of them against the grand window. She heard people pounding on it, trying to break the glass but she knew by her earlier observation of it that it was far too thick. She ignored all of the ruckus and the man holding on to her. Aris managed to find the Joker's eyes. He was at the top of the staircase looking down at them all with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. She glowered at him and maybe she had just imagined it, but she could have sworn his smirk had widened in retaliation before he swept out of the ballroom.

As soon as he was out of sight, Aris found herself mindlessly springing into action. She leapt from the stranger's arms but kept hold of his sleeve and also grabbed Mrs. Turner's wrist on her way to one of two food tables on their side of the fire. She ripped the tablecloth off of it. "Help me tip this upside down into the fire," she called to the man she had a hold of and he did so without question. He was about six foot and by the way he had carried her, she guessed he was as strong as an ox. He carried his half of the table effortlessly and Aris struggled but they got the job done. There was now a good, solid—albeit temporary—bridge across the fire. Aris immediately started shoving people across the way, making sure to start with Mrs. Turner. "Go!" Aris screamed when she waited on the other side, dangerously close to the flames and looking fretfully back at her. She was able to get a good deal of people to run across before the table started burning. She was relieved when she looked back and saw that the rest of the group had taken their cue and used the other table to do the rest. It wasn't long before it was only her and a very elderly woman left. Aris called the tall stranger back over the table to carry her out, and even though he looked like it was the last thing on earth he wanted to do, he managed it as fast as he could.

Aris was ready to cross when they were clear but then pain suddenly reared up over her calves. She looked back in shock to see that the back of her dress was on fire. In all of the chaos she had forgotten that it had slid through the gasoline. She immediately ripped most of the bottom off of her dress and flung it from her, but when she turned back to the flames there was no longer a path for her. Mrs. Turner was yelling to her but Aris had to step back because the heat was pressing at her. The tall stranger was the only guest left waiting and she found herself quite grateful for him and resentful that she did not remember his name or the conversation that they had earlier that night. Aris looked around her for anything useful but found nothing. She knew she wasn't going anywhere now. She made her way back toward the window.

"Get her out of here, now!" Aris called to him, and though Mrs. Turner screamed and fought against him, he dragged her quickly out of sight. She was able to find a bucket used for champagne that had a small amount of water left in it (certainly not enough to waste trying to douse any of the fire); so she ripped off another small piece of her dress, soaked it in the water and pressed the rag to her face as she hunkered down against the window.

She refused to look at the flames surrounding her. She could see police cars and fire trucks below her but knew they would not get to her in time. She tried to think about how beautiful her city looked from there, but when that seemed like a pointless last observation she moved on to wondering if she wouldn't be in this predicament if she had just tried to escape in the first place instead of sticking her nose where it didn't belong. And what was the Joker's reason for trying to kill everyone at the party, anyway? She had been too caught up in the moment and acting her usual impulsive self to pay any attention to what his plan might have been. And what did it matter? She was about to die and her last thoughts were going to be dwelling on the plans of her murderer. But why not? It kept her from going hysterical at the idea of burning to death.

She felt herself getting light-headed suddenly and decided that if she was going to pass out from heat or smoke-inhalation, that it wouldn't be such a bad way to go. She lay down on the floor, took the rag from her face, and closed her eyes. It was almost too easy and she could feel herself starting to go. But what she thought the very best thing about dying was the moment right before she slipped away. It felt like a breeze and then a sudden weightlessness. No. Dying wasn't so bad.


	7. Take Me From the Hospital Bed

**A/N: OH HOLY HELL IT'S BEEN LIKE A YEAR. Oops. Might want to go back and read the story again, you probably don't remember what the hell is going on!**

**So what happened? Well, I got pregnant. Pregnancy does NOT agree with me. Was too sick to even LOOK at a computer until about week 18 and then I was in terrible pain for the rest, trying to keep up with my toddler, blah, blah, blah...****So hi guys! My new little one is 4 months old now so I actually have time at night to do a little writing. Yay me! Next chapter later this week, I'm hoping. As always, look for status updates on my profile.  
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><p>Aris' eyes, nose, and lungs stung; her head was throbbing worse than when she had her concussion and the rest of her body hadn't hurt this bad since that one time she got beat up in high school by a girl twice her size. The first thing that she noticed besides the pain was an overwhelming smell that left her feeling nauseated, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. The back of her eyelids were bright red, warning her that the lights beyond were probably on the blinding and searing side. She opened her eyes with great difficulty and hissed inwardly at the waiting light even though she had prepared herself for it. She felt grateful for the shadow that fell over her but when she was finally able to focus on the person it belonged to she frowned and unsuccessfully tried to shift away from him.<p>

"Oh, man. I went to hell." Her voice was scratchy but the message came through to Lafferty loud and clear. She was thankful that he fell away from her, insulted—his cologne must have been what was nauseating her. He ran a hand over his overly-gelled hair and fixed the collar of his uniform that was far too tight in all of the wrong places.

"I'm going to assume that's the drugs talking. I'll go tell Gordon you're awake," he said as he made his way to the door slowly and purposefully, but Aris let him go; she wasn't sorry in the least. She wondered what drugs he spoke of as she felt like there was no way she was under the influence of pain killers. She was confused as to why she was alive. There wasn't any way that the firefighters would have gotten to her in time. Her muscles ached but she didn't feel like she had been burned badly. Though it took great effort to do so, she brought her hands to the top of her head and brought them down across her whole body, trying to assess the damage. Her hair was burned, her skin was tender to the touch, and she had bandages wrapped around her calves where she had been burned by her dress. The fact that they weren't numb and that she didn't scream in pain when she touched them made her hopeful that she wasn't burned too badly.

A pretty nurse in sky-blue scrubs and her hair pulled back in a messy brown bun walked in and beamed at her. "Good to have you back, Miss Smitte." She had a chart in her hand and sat down on a stool at Aris' bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I almost died in a fire," Aris croaked, feeling unable to keep the sarcasm down. The nurse, whose nametag read 'Lindsay,' put something in her hand and then went back to looking at her chart.

"That's for your medication. If you're in pain, go ahead and hit the button and it will disburse it. Before you even ask, _no_, it is not possible for you to overdose…" Lindsay prattled on while Aris gave her a strange look and pushed her medication button as hard as she could. "You breathed in some smoke so your lungs will be irritated but there's no real damage to worry about. Your legs have minor burns and we'll let you know how to take care of them in the days to come. Do you have any questions so far?"

"How in the hell did I get here?" she blurted out the most pressing question on her mind. She really hadn't followed much of what the nurse had said as she was still feeling quite foggy and distracted. Lindsay looked only slightly exasperated as she smiled with her bright and full pink lips.

"Nobody knows. Someone dropped you off unconscious at the emergency room's doors." She shrugged. "You were lucky."

"Yeah, I guess," Aris answered, confused.

"You have a barrage of people waiting to see you out in the waiting room, namely the police who need to take your statement about what happened at the hotel. You could talk to them now or I can tell them all to hit the road. It's up to you," Lindsay told her. Aris furrowed her brows in even deeper confusion. It was at that moment that a man burst into the room balancing several vases of flowers. Without a word he brought them to the far side of the room where Aris noticed for the first time that there was already quite a collection before he came in. It suddenly hit her that they had contributed to the nauseous scent that had filled her nostrils when she woke. She continued to scan the room, looking for any sign that she might be rooming with a celebrity or something else that would explain why there were so many get-well presents in her room.

"You said…a _barrage_ of people are here? What the hell is going on?" She didn't know how long she had been unconscious but all of the pain and confusion was making her tired again. Her eyes prickled against her will, staring at the nurse helplessly.

"Oh, honey. Don't you know?" The nurse took her hand and this time her smile reached her big blue eyes. "You're a hero! You saved all of those guests last night and they've all been sending gifts, calling, and visiting since they heard you arrived."

Aris took her hand back and blushed deeply as she shook her head defiantly. "I didn't do anything someone else would have done probably a minute later." This made Lindsay laugh.

"Sure, honey. Sure." She shook her head with the amused smile still on her face and went back to looking at the chart on her lap. "So are you up for visitors?"

"No way I can just be discharged and sneak out the back?" Aris asked with a grimace.

"Afraid not."

"Fine," she mumbled. "Let's get his over with." Lindsay helped her to sit up in her bed. She then went on to start fixing her hair. When Aris pulled back from her with a severe and questioning look, Lindsay stopped and started making her way to the door.

"You've got a couple of nice-looking visitors waiting to see you, just thought I'd help." She winked at her before she left and Aris found herself blushing again as she readied herself for the "barrage" to come. The police must have been waiting right outside the door because it only took a few seconds for Gordon, Lafferty, and another nameless officer to come through her door and pull up some chairs.

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Miss Smitte," Gordon said to her with a humorless smirk.

"It's not my fault trouble loves me, Commissioner." Her sarcasm fell flat as the power she intended to put behind her voice merely brought her pain. She massaged her throat as her eyes started to water.

"The way I hear it, you threw yourself into the middle of the trouble this time. Why don't you go ahead and tell me about that."

Aris fumed. She went on to tell Gordon the whole story of what happened through clenched teeth. She gave him every detail and let him know why she did what she did, leaving nothing out. It took about forty-five minutes as he made her repeat parts of her story numerous times. By the time they stood to leave she was ready to start throwing vases of flowers in their general direction. She had forgotten that she wanted to ask Gordon if she should expect a visit from their mutual "friend" any time soon but her anger, her fuzzy thoughts, and Lafferty leering at her from the doorway had her mind set elsewhere.

"I realize I was probably the last person that you had to question about what happened but I don't understand why it was so important for all of you to stay here and wait for me to wake up. I'm sure the hospital would have gotten a hold of you," Aris ranted as Gordon spent a few minutes going over his notes. He looked up at her tiredly for a moment before waiving one of his officers forward. She hadn't noticed he was holding something when they walked in. It was an ugly, dirty handful of closed-up yellow flowers that looked to have been ripped out of the ground, roots and all. There was a large piece of paper tied to them with a shoelace. He handed them to Gordon who subsequently lifted the paper so she could read it.

_Congratulations on surviving. Game on._

"Any idea who might have sent these to you? Any idea what the message means?" Gordon asked her. She narrowed her eyes at him. It wasn't really a question at all; they all knew who sent them. She was tired of being talked to like she had done something wrong. It was a horrible coincidence that she kept being thrown in the path of the Joker—a coincidence that seemed to make everyone believe she was out looking for that kind of trouble. At least that's how she mostly felt. Part of her felt guilty for whatever he and Batman were accusing her of. Hadn't she been wishing for more excitement? Despite the fact that the Joker was so terrifying and unpredictable to behold, somewhere deep within her stirred inspiration and a dark craving that she didn't yet understand.

"The Joker might have sent them. That is my only guess. I can't think of anyone else who would send something like that. And he probably knows I got out of the building when I should have died. He probably wants me dead." She couldn't meet Gordon's eyes anymore, her voice grew small. "Now if you don't mind, I apparently have more visitors and I'm starting to get very tired." He left his card on the table next to her, leaving silently with the rest of the officers trailing behind him.

It took Mrs. Turner less than thirty seconds to come barreling through the door. Her greying, drawn-up hair was askew, her eyes were bright and already brimming with tears, and her lovely floral dress from the party was visibly damaged by the smoke. Aris was so caught up in the realization that Mrs. Turner had been waiting at the hospital all night that it took her by surprise when she fell across her lap in tears. She muffled incoherent apologies into the blankets and Aris tried to ignore the sting in her legs as she patted her back awkwardly, not knowing what to say. It took her a moment to realize Mrs. Turner had dragged someone in with her. He was the handsome stranger that kept her from getting her feet and dress burned off at the party. He stood just inside the door smiling uncomfortably, still in his smoke-damaged tux. Even with his hair in all different directions, he was a lot more attractive than she remembered. He was at least six feet tall with a lean muscled build, and light brown hair with darker stubble in all the right places on his face. A slightly dimpled chin, a perfect smile, and soft brown eyes had her smiling back at him over the still blubbering woman in her lap.

It took another minute for Mrs. Turner to compose herself, but took less than that to see the exchange between them. Besides continuing to dab at her eyes, her demeanor seemed to do a 180. Aris' pity turned to incredulousness as she saw what was happening before Mrs. Turner even opened her mouth.

"Aris, dear, this is Alexander Hart. I introduced you to him last night."

It only took him a few steps to make it to her bedside and shake her hand awkwardly. Aris' focus of disbelief at Mrs. Turner trying to play matchmaker after recent events turned completely to his large hand and stature. She flushed furiously as she suddenly wished she had allowed the nurse to primp her a little more before they had come in. She smiled again and stupidly blurted out "You saved my feet," which gained an immediate deep, rumbling laugh from him. Internally blaming it on her most recent concussion, she followed up with, "my hero," and laughed as well to fight the urge to hide underneath the blankets and never come out again. Handsome men didn't usually turn her into a blabbermouth. She chalked it up to the stress. Yes, that was it—stress.

"My pleasure," he replied, and without looking at her like she had sprouted another head. Aris just stared as he smiled at her. She had a vague notion run through her mind that it should really be illegal to be so attractive.

"Alex is an accountant and was just hired by Bruce Wayne himself," Mrs. Turner began, looking completely over her crying fit already, as if it had never happened at all. "That man," she shook her head with half-hearted indignation, "simply cannot take the time to come to a _charity_ event but finds he is able to wait _hours_ in the waiting room for you to wake up…"

"WHAT?" Aris practically shrieked and immediately put one hand over her face and the other over her throat, pain lancing through her. She peeked over her fingertips at Mrs. Turner as she felt her face start to flush again. "What is he _doing here_?" she whispered harshly.

Mrs. Turner rolled her eyes to the ceiling and lifted her shoulders but couldn't hide her thoughtful smirk. "I just don't know dear, I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out. Alex and I must be going anyway. Very big mess to clean up, you know. Alex, dear, give her your card just in case she needs anything. Get lots of rest, Aris. Give me a ring when they let you out," she said all of this as she patted Aris on the head and then headed out the door, leaving both Alex and Aris stunned for a moment. Alex did as was told and went to leave but then stopped and turned to her again, looking slightly unsure of himself. "I wrote my private number on the back. Just in case," he gave her a shy smile and a shrug before leaving the room. Aris could do nothing for a few minutes but stare at the empty doorway with the card in her hand. She felt like her brain was turning into a puddle, she just couldn't take in what had just occurred in her hospital room on top of the events from the night before. And now she had to deal with Bruce Wayne. She felt unprepared to deal with it but also completely helpless to stop it.

When a few more minutes went by and no one entered the room, she put the card down on the table (refusing to look at it, and possibly pretending it had never happened in the first place) and turned on the television to try and find an escape from her melting brain. Her train of thought tried to wander to the possibility of liquor stores delivering to hospital rooms but she was abruptly brought back to reality as someone started calling her name. But no…no, it wasn't someone calling her name. It was someone on the television saying her name. They were talking about her "daring rescue" on the news and then a picture of her popped up on the screen. It took her last ounce of willpower not to shriek again as she changed the channel only to have practically the same story running on that one too. She kept flipping through until it seemed like the only channel not running the story was one with some rather disturbing cartoons. She dropped the remote and immediately put her face in her hands again. Had she daydreamed about being on television before? The news? Sure, but the circumstances would have leaned more toward something like a famous art exhibition. For some reason, being plastered all over the news as some kind of hero just felt downright embarrassing. And oh, the Joker would be seeing the stories and that would just fuel the fire of whatever "game" they were apparently playing now. How did she get herself into this mess?

"My thoughts exactly," a familiar voice broke through her racing thoughts and she risked a peek over her fingertips again to see Bruce Wayne with his arms crossed, looking at the television with blatant distaste. "What _are_ you watching?"

"What _are_ you doing here?" she asked, mocking his tone. His eyes locked on hers; obviously surprised by the way she was receiving his presence.

It took him a moment to recover but he walked a little closer to her bedside before answering. "I wanted to come and personally thank you for what you did for Alfred Pennyworth. He wanted to come thank you himself but I insisted he go home and rest. He was in the hospital shortly for smoke inhalation."

Aris' attitude changed immediately as the memory of the old man came back to her. She immediately softened at the thought of Mr. Pennyworth escorting her away from the mouthy inbreeds outside of the hotel and into the charity ball. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked with real concern.

He smiled at her genuine worry and nodded before looking at the floor. "He'll be just fine. I figured I owed him as much to come here. I sent him into a burning building, might as well risk getting burned again by you as well."

She felt herself flush again for what felt like the millionth time that day, assuming he was talking about her other negative reactions to him the last time they had crossed paths. The heat in her face felt like a furnace as he absentmindedly sat down next to her and grabbed the card that Alex had left behind. She immediately snatched it out of his hand, her demeanor turning stony. He merely raised his eyebrows and smirked at her reaction. She didn't know what it was about him, but he brought out an insensible and relentless stubbornness in her. His playful smirk stayed and she could see that since the last time they had seen each other he looked less tired, more spark in his eyes. She could feel his natural charm winning her over, so she shook her head and pointed at him.

"I'll be attending work tomorrow," she blurted. "And I would greatly appreciate if you did not _insist_ on sending me back home. I need to work, I need the money."

"Fair enough," he relented, amused by the randomness and her demanding tone. He reached across her and took the remote, turning it back to one of the news channels. "Hey look, you're on TV."

Aris groaned and the nurse caught it as she came back in the room. "Miss Smitte, is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

"I could use an extra pillow…to smother myself with," she mumbled the last part to herself as Lindsay the nurse sent Bruce a hundred watt smile. Bruce caught this and turned to Aris to give her his own sly smile. She found herself having to bite her lip to stifle a small laugh. They had suddenly settled back into that easy feeling of the light amusement they had experienced when they first met. Before she could even start to reflect on it, Bruce stood and took her hand, placed the remote into it, and then set her hand back down gently.

"I have to be going, I'll let you rest. Be seeing you bright and early tomorrow," he waved his hand above his head as he exited the room. Aris felt a conflicting roll of exasperation and amusement. She couldn't put her finger on Bruce's personality. It was like dealing with two very different men at the same time. She rolled her eyes at the thought and laid back into her hospital bed as the drugs they had given her started to do their job. It wasn't long after that the doctor came in to see her. He asked her questions to judge her physical state and then checked her over for a short time before finally telling her that he would clear her to go home. When she asked if someone could call her a cab, he told her that her driver was waiting downstairs by the back entrance, much to Aris' confusion.

"You must be mistaken. I don't have a 'driver.' I think I'll just go ahead and look for a taxi out front…" she started to gather her few personal belongings, including a bag that held her burned dress. The doctor chuckled to himself as he wrote on her chart.

"Do what you will, Miss Smitte. But my advice is to not go anywhere near the front of the building," he gave another chuckle and left the room, leaving her bewildered. She couldn't help but sigh heavily. Was it just her or was everyone just maddeningly vague and confusing lately? She decided that before she definitely made her way to the front to hail a cab, she would see who the hell thought they were going to drive her home. Her eyes glanced over the flowers on her way out of the room and she felt her stomach drop, thinking of the dead flowers from earlier. Her first thought had been that the "driver" could be Bruce and his lurk-y ass sticking around because he just hadn't harassed her enough earlier. She wouldn't put it past Mrs. Turner to send someone to cart her around either. But the more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. If someone was able to sneak those flowers in to her room, then it could be someone potentially threatening to her. But apparently, the previous night's events really hadn't made enough of an impression on her—she took a deep breath and made her way to the back of the building.


	8. I'm Only Two Cubes Down

**A/N: I'm posting it tonight, just like I promised! You should all be thankful because I'm staying up late and struggling to do this (my children are conspiring to give me an ulcer tonight, I'm sure of it). This is kind of a filler, but cute, and people have been asking for more Bruce. So HERE. You're welcome.**

**I wanted this to be longer but the next chapter will work out better this way anyway. Joker shenanigans next chapter! Leave me some feedback. Thanks, darlings!**

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><p>"Alex?" Aris approached him and when he looked at her his face grew pink and full of guilt. He had been standing by the back entrance of the hospital, glancing out of the broad windows. She had seen him immediately as he stood out starkly—his ruined tuxedo in a sea of blue scrubs had just about everyone's attention really. "Why…" she didn't even know how to begin. She assumed that Alex was the driver the doctor had told her about, but she was at a loss as to why <em>he<em> was there. He put up his hands defensively as he smiled awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, I know we just met but the nurse tipped me off on my way out so I decided to wait and see if you wanted to sneak out the back," he explained, as if that explained anything at all. She gaped at him for a moment before putting her fingers to her temples, rubbing small circles in order to attempt to calm herself.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked in barely a whisper. She had met her quota of confusion for the day; she felt run down and just wanted to be unconscious again. He blinked at her a few times and then realization crossed his unshaven face and he gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

"Reporters have been trying to sneak in to see you all day. There are news crews out front waiting for you to walk out of the building. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

She sat down abruptly—thankful there was a chair right behind her—and she took a long, deep breath that made her lungs feel like they were going to collapse. She started to cough and Alex put a hand to her shoulder in concern. She cursed herself silently for forgetting about her smoke inhalation. Her chest hurt and her calves ached just from walking from her hospital room to the back entrance. She waited for the room to stop spinning before looking up into Alex's worried stare. She gave him a smile, though it probably showed how embarrassed she was no matter how hard she tried to push it down. She didn't know what to say. She had done her best to keep anyone from entering her life and complicating it but in the past few days she had a frustrating playboy, a fire-obsessed clown, and now this sweet stranger practically thrust into her path with no way around. Her initial reaction was to give him the first excuse to pop into her head and attempt to hail a cab on a back street. Her mind started to wander…

"What do you say I get you out of here? I'll be your get-away driver," he mused charmingly.

She gave in. "Okay," she affirmed. It was all she could manage. She took his outstretched hand and let him lead her to his car.

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><p>The ride home with Alex was a whole lot less awkward than she had initially anticipated. He knew she was in pain so he kept the talking to a minimum, only asking her every so often for directions to her apartment. The silence was comfortable and she tried to relax. Though the longing to be home and alone made it seem like forever, it wasn't long before they were in front of her building.<p>

"Do you need any help getting up the stairs?" he asked.

She looked at his cheeky grin and realized he was teasing her a bit. She winced as if the thought gave her actual physical pain. "As if I haven't taken enough blows to my pride today," she answered, "but really Alex, thank you for the ride home…and for saving me from the insanity at the hospital."

"You are most welcome," he answered like the gentleman he obviously was. "Do you need a ride tomorrow?" When she looked like she was going to automatically decline, he cut her off. "I'm not going to let you walk to work. You're not supposed to be on your feet for that long."

She shook her head, slightly incredulous. "I may not be high on the totem pole at Wayne Enterprises, but I'm pretty sure you weren't hired to be my boss." She smirked as she opened the door. "I promise to take a cab. Thank you again." She closed the door before he could counter and then made her way up to her apartment.

Though the only thing she wished to do was collapse on her bed, she made sure to search her apartment for any dark brooding visitors that might have invited themselves in while she was away. When she found she was alone, her attention was then brought to her answering machine. She had to blink a few times and step closer to really believe what she was seeing. The number 25 was flashing red at her. She didn't think she had seen more than three messages on it before and looked at it for a minute like it might explode. Stunned, Aris slowly and carefully pressed the play button. The machine monotonously called out "_Twenty five messages. Message one. March 13__th__. Two thirty four AM._" The first message was one of many: people from the charity function calling to thank her for what she did. Others were news and radio stations calling for an interview—which she promptly deleted—and then there were a few messages that she wrote down enthusiastically, people wanting her to buy one of her paintings or to hire her to paint for them. It looked like her trauma from the last twenty four hours just became entirely worth it.

With the prospect of cash coming in soon, she dabbed into her rent money to send out to have groceries delivered. She paid the kid who showed up five extra to put the food away and then she sat herself in front of the television to put her feet up for the rest of the night, ignoring the phone but listening intently to every message that came through. Her last call was from Mrs. Turner, her loud voice booming over the answering machine raptly called to her, "Aris! Are you watching the news? I know you can hear me, Aristophane Smitte!" she prattled on but Aris drowned her out as she obeyed, changing the channel to one of the stations she had been avoiding all day. She was the topic of the story yet again, only this time she immediately sat forward in surprise as there was a badly distorted video playing. Someone had caught footage on their camera phone of Batman carrying her out of the smoking building the night before. She hung from his arms, extremely pale under the ash on her skin. He was looking at her with what seemed to be worry before the video cut out.

"I have a theory," Batman's voice came out of the dark so suddenly in the quiet room that Aris had to clap both hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking. "It's that you're trying to get yourself killed."

"Really?" she yelled. "_My_ theory is that you go home at night and laugh at how many people you've probably given a heart attack!" She had an immediate coughing fit from the strain and had to gulp down her glass of water before she could talk again. "What took you so long, anyway? I've been waiting for you to show up all day."

It was rather hard to see him when the only light in the room was the television but she could see his gloved hand motion toward it. "Now that I'm being spotted around the city, it's best that I be more careful. What can you tell me about what happened last night?" he asked and she complied, going over her story again without complaint. When she was finished she took on a more regretful and sincere tone.

"I really am sorry I can't tell you more right now. I can give Mrs. Turner a call and ask her what went on before I interrupted, but I think I stepped in before any real reason was given as to why they tried to burn us all alive. Thank you, by the way, for not letting me burn alive." She waited but he said nothing. "So do you trust me now? If I was working with the Joker, I don't think he would blatantly try to kill me."

"He would," he answered shortly without really answering her question at all. She rolled her eyes and leaned back into the couch again, turning away from him. There was no use in trying to talk to his face if he was just going to linger in the darkness and be obstinate. "Anything you're not telling me?" he finally asked. She opened her mouth to snap at him but then stopped as she remembered, causing her stomach to do flips again.

"He sent me flowers at the hospital—left a note that said 'Game on.' He must think I'm after him or something. What in the hell do I do with that? Is he going to come after me now?" she asked. "I'm not really terribly frightened. I'm just curious and a little frustrated with the whole situation."

"Just keep your head down for a while." And just like that, his sudden absence was tangible in the air. She didn't even have to turn around to make sure. How he had gotten in and out was beyond her. Even with the television on, she found the silence to be deafening. The pressure to sit and relax ate at her and made her skin crawl. Going from all of the excitement recently to being expected to hole up in her apartment and put her feet up was maddening. She supposed as long as she was sitting, she was within her limits. She didn't have any more canvases, but she brought a chair and scrap paper into the kitchen and began to paint furiously until she was beyond exhaustion. That night, passed out on the floor of her kitchen, she dreamt of flowers, smoke, and wicked laughter.

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><p>It took the better part of an hour for Aris to get the paint out of her hair the next morning, and even then she had to braid it to mask some of the grey lacquer she couldn't quite get out. She took a few Tylenol instead of the heavier drugs they sent her home with and pocketed the rest of the bottle, not wanting to be foggy and weird at work. Before she left she made sure to treat her burns and took care to wear loose and airy dress pants so they did not chafe on her calves throughout the day. She kept her promise to Alex, taking a cab instead of walking to work. Besides people doing a double-take at her on the street from seeing her on the news, nothing too out of the ordinary happened until she was waiting for the elevator at Wayne Enterprises. She had lost count how many times she had felt sincere regret in the past week, this time for not coming in to work with a hoodie pulled over her face.<p>

"Hey!" the secretary called to her, "What are you doing here? Didn't you almost _die_ the other night?" This was said with an awed smile on her face and Aris felt all of stunned, amused, and panicked at the same time as other people in the lobby started to look over and obviously recognize her.

"Nope," she said simply, shaking her head vigorously and darting into the elevator. She jammed a finger into the 'close doors' button and said a silent prayer when she started her descent into the basement. She had a few hours of pure, people-less bliss as she hid in the back room to do some filing. She was the only one working down there on Tuesdays. Once in a while someone would come in through the elevator to bring more paperwork down to be filed but they just left it on the desk for her instead of seeking her out. About halfway through her shift she heard someone come in but after a while she hadn't heard them leave. Curious, she opened the door only to come face to face with Bruce Wayne, one hand lifted to knock and the other holding a cup of coffee. He dropped his fist and handed the coffee to her.

"Better late than never, I guess." She took a sip of the coffee, set it on a filing cabinet, and went back to work.

"I waited at the desk for you to come out." He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. "Are you hiding in here?"

"So what if I am?" she asked, her attention still on the papers in front of her. She purposefully meant to not look at him; his quick smiles won her over too easily and her sarcasm and shortness only seemed to spur him on.

"So how are you feeling?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Like death warmed over, but I'll survive. Thanks for the coffee," she tried to sound dismissive so that he would leave but he merely stood there, looking around the room. She stopped what she was doing to watch him. He looked trim and perfect as usual, not a hair out of place. He was cleanly shaven now and looked much livelier than the first time they met; less tired and more vivacious. He had a boyish grin on his face as he looked around her tiny back office. She supposed he had never been in there before, and wondered if he had even ever been this far down in the building. She grinned and bit her lip as she brought her attention back to the paper in her hand. "Don't you have things to do? A company to run? People to schmooze? Models to date? Restaurants to buy—"

"Alright now," he laughed and she couldn't help it any longer; she stopped what she was doing and mirrored his stance across the small room, allowing herself to smirk. As per usual, he took her candidness in stride and changed the subject. "Alfred tells me that you're an artist."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you letting that poor man rest? Smoke inhalation is no joke."

"Says the woman who comes to work practically fresh out of the hospital. He says your paintings are lovely, as does Mrs. Turner. I would like to take a look at them myself."

"Well, you're just going to have to wait until I have a show. But seriously, you better not be letting that sweet old man wait on you," she told him, pointing a finger and stepping closer to him. "You don't deserve him. If I could afford him, I'd steal him from you and pay him to rest and tell me nice things."

Bruce burst into laughter at this. "Oh, he'd love that, I'm sure. So when is this show of yours?" he asked without missing a beat.

She stepped even closer and actually poked him in the chest. "I don't know why you're so interested. You would just send poor Mr. Pennyworth in your place anyway." His eyes widened and he pretended to clutch his heart. "And then someone would try to burn my show to the ground and we would be right back where we started."

He started to laugh again and she couldn't help but give in and laugh as she was only being half-serious. Their little tête-à-tête was interrupted by a knock on the door behind Bruce. Alex popped into the room and nervously smiled at Aris, noticeably anxious about the presence of Bruce.

"Hey, I was about to head out to lunch and wanted to know if you would join me?" he asked.

Her eyes met Bruce's, still bright from their conversation and laughter. She smiled and kept his gaze as she said, "I would love to, Alex."

Bruce countered the devilish smile with one of his own. "Do let me know when that show is. And Aris?" he caught her forearm before she could slide by him out the door. Her skin burned unexpectedly where he gripped her and when she looked up into his dark eyes her heart sped up faster. He leaned down and his face was so close to hers that she stopped breathing altogether. "You have some paint, right here," he told her and ran his thumb lightly under her ear, behind her jawbone. He released her and shrugged. "Have a good time." She stepped away and found herself shuddering not unpleasantly as she took Alex's arm and made their way toward the elevator.


End file.
